Blackbird
by Black Rien
Summary: Life in England is wonderful. Until your best friend goes missing, a cat-boy invades your home, and a giant white dog tries to eat your face. Did I mention the fat Nazi? Clara's story


Summary:_  
I had always thought England was a wonderful country.  
At least until the zombies showed up. And then the vampires.  
And the hulking, German werewolf…_

Disclaimer:  
I do not own Hellsing or have any affiliation with the series/manga what-so-ever.  
Hellsing belongs to Kouta Hirano.

* * *

**Sing a song of monsters,  
A pocket full of lye.  
Four and twenty blackbirds,  
All sent out to die.**

**When their heads were opened,  
The birds began to scream;  
Wasn't that that the strangest thing,  
For a girl to dream?**

* * *

Blackbird

Chapter 1; _'The assignment from hell'_

* * *

My name is Clara Willows Amsel, and I'm an Inspector for the London Police. Nothing major, really; a few counts of robbery, some minor scuffle downtown, no Jack the Ripper-esque crime scenes yet, even though I know for a fact I could have kicked that womanizing fucker's butt.

My hair is dark black and short, choppy even, and I have greenish eyes with specks of yellow. I usually wear whatever I can scrounge out of my drawers, unlike most other girls I know. I've always been teased by my family that if I ever turned into a zombie or other creepy spook monster, no one would even notice.

I moved to London from the United States with my best, and only, friend Mary a little over a year ago. I still have trouble with the accents and turns-of-phrase here. Mary, so unlike myself, owns a flower shop down by Fleet Street.

I hated that she picked something so _effeminate _as her lifestyle, but at least the place has history; though from what she's told me, there are no human meat pies for sale down there. Bummer, what an adventure that would be.

We both shared a quaint old country house outside of London, which suited us just fine. It was around eight thirty when I started packing up my things for the day, my shift being over at last…

* * *

"Miss Amsel!"

I was just tossing my duffle bag over my shoulder when Jeremy's voice rang through the halls. Honestly, that boy has no inside voice whatsoever.

"Yeah, Germy?" I answered as he swung open my door. I watched with some pleasure as he bristled at the name I had given him, but replied just the same.

"Commisioner Davies needs to see you immediately!"

I sighed and rolled my eyes through their lids as I nodded, walking out the door and down the hall to where the Commisioner waited impatiently. He was a big man, easily three times my width and twice my height, balding and sour and a bachelor for life, _heaven knows why._

"There you are, took you long enough," he muttered. He held some disdain for me, seeing as I was already in a pretty good position in the unit, even though I had only served in London for a year. Still, I graduated top of my class, highest honours, all that jazz. I came with credentials.

I tilted my head up sharply in a faint mockery of a salute, I held no respect for this man.

"We just received a report of gunfire outside of the city, close to your own home, I believe."

I tried to keep my expression neutral; Mary would have left for home at least an hour ago. I feared the worst, that my best friend would get caught up in some sick asshole's range, or that someone had broken into our home.

"I'll get out there immediately, sir," I told him, and I would. He nodded, but I ignored it, rushing throught the building and into the parking lot, digging in my pockets for my keys and checking to see if my gun was in its holster. It was.

I fired up the engine and wheeled the car around like a total badass. I would have given myself some praise for that little trick, but I was too worried about Mary. I floored the accelerator, turned on the sirens, and shot off into the night…

* * *

I almost turned into our road when I smashed the brakes with my boot, the tires shrieking and squeeling in protest of the rough treatment. My mind raced as I parked the car and pratically jumped out the door.

I saw Mary's car parked just in front of mine, the hood was dented in slightly, her door was open, and the windshield was splattered with blood. A few feet behind her car, close to where mine was parked, there was a larger, messier bloodstain soaking into the dirt.

'_She must have hit something,'_ I thought with a grimace, but if that was true, wouldn't she have called me?

I huffed and ran onwards, down the road to our house, hoping that she would be there. I completely ignored how the closer I got, the more clearly I could hear the shouts and screams and gunshots. My hand was on my gun as I ran…

* * *

A/N: And that was the prologue for Clara's side of the story.  
The next chapter of 'Mary' will be out soon. =)  
As for the title, Clara's last name is German for Blackbird, clever, no?

Happy 4th, Americans!

Tumbling~


End file.
